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Hidden In The Midden

Well they asked me to write a poem about myself:
 
I am the ghost that rambled long streets in darkness,
I am a man with boots on his feet, clicking, born nameless,
I am the angel that will never acknowledge my traces,
I am a soul who walks in brightness with shaded eyes,
 
I have brown hair that ignites red in the sunshine,
I have eyes as intense as a forest fire left untamed,
I have been through hell but keep my head lifted unashamed,
I have a brain so confused by what going on,
 
I have a body made of pieces just like yourself,
I have a vision that gains clarity with every step I take,
I have emotions that are fake, caked, and baked,
I have a mind just as infinite as the stars above,
 
I enjoy reading the novels that compels you to turn a page,
I enjoy watching people who will never take a chance to change
I believe I will live in that pattern until my old and dyin’ age,
I drink coffee just to get through the day,
 
I am hopeless and hopeful yet it goes unknown,
Whether the lessons I’m learning will take shape,
Or form, yet as a patten, they seem to be reborn,
Don’t ask me what that means, they asked me to tell it,
 
As for myself, I keep myself hidden in the midden,
Clicking time clocks past the place where the bones,
Of life are piled, styled, derailed, and not filed,
I keep myself hidden in the midden,
So thats all I want to tell about myself to you,
You who I’ve known, know, and yet to meet,
I am the all encompassing simplicity of everything,
And nothing, all in all as close to a human as I ever could get,
To everyone else I’ll ever become while my years head towards death,
I look forward to meeting you in whatever room, in my mind, holds left,
Until beneath the infinite sky my infinite mind breathes its final breath...

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